of complan boys...

Cruise liners. Over paper boats.
And someone says you've grown up.
Sad. Sad that we all grow up.
To the rosier face of a Half Truth.

Why does it always rain on me?

Dozed off at around twelve in the noon today. Was woken by the rumbling of the clouds. I kept my eyes shut. Tried recalling the rainy days, days ago. Thoughts treacled in like rainwater in a shabby tea stall on the roadside. And along came all the sights and smells. Thoughts that I used to think. But that was a long time back. Before I learnt the things I know now. That was before Gariahaat flyover was built. Before you heard of Mc Donalds setting up a shop in Calcutta. Before I knew that Irish coffee had whiskey in it. Or that people in North Korea are terribly poor...poorer than people in our country. As I said before, it was a long time back.

And I thought of the rainy days still to come. And I knew I was a dreaming. I opened my eyes, took a deep breath and decided to wake up.

Koel called in the afternoon. She's going back tomorrow. Felt bad. Away from the place she loves so much. No less than I do. Why do we all have to? I better shut up.

The tramp within

Went to the St. Paul' s Cathedral late in the afternoon yesterday. I have been visiting this place from as long as I can remember. As I entered the place (from the Nandan end) and walked a few steps to the open patch of land I stopped walking. It was almost dark. And right in front of me stood the great dark tree with the white bunches of flowers blooming like stars in the dark night sky. Watched it for a long time until it was really dark. It was quiet all around. Except for the continuous sound of jheenjhee poka(love this name somehow). The sight brought strange thoughts that had never occured before. It is these moments when I feel really at home with my inner self. Love this place.

Here we go again-Genius loves company

For the n-th time in my life, I am frustrated. Yes. My face aches from smiling too much. And I am tired of acting non chalant.Tired of tellin myself that I don't care. Tired of trying to be this really cool guy, who does'nt give a shit for anything at all. Who loves music so much that he could actually manage to live without anything else. Who is so much into college movements and quota protests that he could get over any loss sooner than one would imagine.

Oh no. NOT AGAIN! I don't want to get into this viscious cycle of emotions again. I thought I had long grown up. I thought I had learned to live with it. Was'nt it a few months back that i decided to "Let IT Be" ?

I have a confession. I am a loser. I have lost. Not that I never tried(Because that may make one think that I might have won if i had tried) Trust me. I tried real hard and failed. Miserably.

PS: On a happier note, subhayu got me the entire eric clapton, lynyrd skynyrd collection and koel promised me The doors( She is a bit screwed up right now, unlike her cell, which is screwed up bigtime). Also i got a little high trying to stick egg craters at the "practice pad" at Subhayu's place using Dendrite(smells good man!) yesterday...tried playing the piano after a long time and got stuck. Mind buying me a piano some one?

And I fall in love...all over again

"
Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid ..."

Joan Baez-The Legend.

The Trial

The AC is pretty cold i think. What time is it? I fish out the mobile from my jeans. It's quarter to five. She's been inside for quite a few minutes. No signs of getting out. I start getting restive. I look at the two mannequins-one black and one white. They don't have shades of grey here. I hear a tapping of the door and she comes out. She has put on one of the three kurtis she just walked in with. And she asks me-

"which looks better on me?"

I smile to myself. Now that is one question! And I realise i have to say something. I look at the three kurtis and point to the one she's wearing-

"Ah, this looks pretty nice."

I feel like saying- " You mean which one makes you look more beautiful? "Poor girl. So she actually thinks that it is possible to look even more beautiful! I realise how pathetically cheesy this will sound and decide to shut up.

On the way back from the mall she keeps on asking the same question.

"Are you sure this is good? I liked it."

And I try hard to remember any of the clothes that she's ever worn. I realise I don't. An earring may be? No. Still no clue. Something? Anything? What have I been doing? Me Dumbo!

I try to notice this time...while talking to her. And I realise how hard it is to notice anything at all!

Well apart from her hair. Rebellious and dark. A hair clip putting up a valiant fight to bring back the order. And the eyes. Small. Kajal lined. And the laughter. Serenely sonic. Untamed and unedited. No attempts at holding back any of it. Not even if people are staring. And then she picks up a tune somewhere. Hums to herself. And I know. Know that I will never notice.